Arc - Angel
by Kermit's Soft Kitty
Summary: Sometimes you have to accept what you were born with, even if you weren't truly happy with it. But for a man who was brought up to believe that the abnormal was wrong, it's going to be a hard task for him to show everyone what he truly was. And even harder for him to accept that he wasn't human. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

One

* * *

"What would you do," Tony asked one day when the team were sprawled out on various pieces of furniture "If one of us was secretly a mutant?"

"I am," Bruce said blandly. Tony scrunched his nose up.

"No, I mean like all of a sudden. So no-one knew about it beforehand,"

"Are you trying to tell us you're a mutant?" Clint asked, glancing over from his small perch. Tony shook his head.

"No. I just wanted to know,"

"Not much," Natasha said non-committaly, popping a handful of popcorn in her mouth "I mean they're just human,"

"Right," Tony murmured to himself "Just human,"

* * *

Tony wasn't much of a biologist but in some instances, the practise had to be put into action. He had taken the time to extract blood from his body when Bruce wasn't within eye or earshot and, much to his dislike, a urinal sample. He wanted to be one hundred per cent sure that things were fine.

His DNA wasn't any different

But the skeletal statistics weren't pretty. And that was what scared him.

Tony Stark swallowed and hoped that the Avengers would stick to their word when the time came.

* * *

A week after his sickening discovery, Tony looked in the mirror. He recoiled slightly at the things marring his now incredible pale skin and blinked. Somewhere in his stomach he was glad that Pepper was visiting relatives in England – something told him that she would have left him by now.

But he couldn't live knowing that she had to come home to _this_ to this abomination of a human.

"Pepper,"

"_Tony, is everything alright?"_

"Everything's fine, Pepper. I just ... I think it's ... Pepper I can't live knowing I'm hurting you-"

"_Tony, what's going on?"_

"I think we should ... break up"

There was tense, heavy silence for a moment before: "_Have you slept with someone?"_

"No, but-"

"_Have_ _you gone behind my back with another woman?_"

"No, but-"

"_Have you betrayed me or my job in any way?_"

"No, but-"

"_Then nothing's wrong. I love you for who you are, Tony. Your crazy antics can't make me ever love you less,_"

Tony swallowed.

_For whom he was. Not for whom he was becoming. _

* * *

He felt changes going on inside of his body: his stomach was smaller than usual because even though he ate very little as the general rule of thumb, he couldn't keep much down now. Drinking was hard for him; the liquor was revolting and bitter to his throat and tongue. He felt forever weak and tired and he slept more than usual although his brain continued to run at full throttle.

If there was one thing that he got as an advantage out of the morphing, it was both the brain capacity of his times twelve and the fact that he could sleep more deeply without recurring nightmares.

But that was against a myriad of horrible mutations.

* * *

It took another two days before he sorted out the problems. He found he could prevent his face from changing shape if he really _concentrated_. But as soon as _they_ were on display, everything morphed. It was not another day after that that Tony discovered his whole demeanour of dress changed too: his normal clothes melted away to form another 'suit' as you wish.

He sat in the corner of his room then, wondering how _on earth _he was going to reveal this to his team and the world.

* * *

They began noticing the change in his bodily shapes not soon after that incident. Clint asked why he didn't eat so much now and then Bruce asked why he had lost so much weight.

"Not hungry," was the reply and he point blank refused to be screened for any illness. Steve noticed the incredible muscle gain and Thor even praised him for it, describing the mass as 'a feat to be proud of'.

Tony swallowed at their questions and praise and awkwardly shuffled away to sleep, saying that he was tired.

* * *

The most terrifying thing that happened after that was his eyes and facial hair. It just _disappeared_. Not his eyes, but the beard and goatee and that worried him.

Where had it gone?

Would his hair fall out?

His eyes, when in his alternate demeanour, were a deep, rich green flecked with some of his original brown and bright, shimmering gold that was noticeable even from a distance. He ran a hand over his smooth face, wondering what was going on.

He was happy, in some ways, to find out that his hair didn't fall out but got thicker. The grey hair that had been showing also disappeared too.

But he still looked _different_.

So he kept it locked away, like his other abnormality.

And he worked on the suit to make modifications for more space.

* * *

When JARVIS said that the suit's thrusters and other external propulsion sources had been completely frazzled, he knew the game was up. His team were down on the ground, far too busy to catch him this time and he had a clenching feeling in his gut.

He asked the AI to shatter joint the suit.

* * *

Steve looked up at the sky briefly in his bloodied battle and what he saw made his breath catch in his throat.

He was falling so very, very fast without any means of thrust. And then –

The suit split into fragments.

Tony's name was ripped from his throat without him knowing it.

* * *

He heard Captain America's terrified yell even as the suit dissipated around him. The wind was keeping him stable momentarily as he clenched his eyes and teeth together, inhaling what air he could as he plummeted to the ground.

And then he was dragged back up into the overhead streams of warm, circling air. He felt his limbs lengthening, ears stretching and eyes tingling as he morphed, clothes melting away as they were replaced with armour not unlike Thor's.

He felt sick with what he was as he tucked in his gigantic wings to drop altitude, swooping down to re-attach the gauntlets to his hands.

When he was out of sight, he let tears sting his cheeks.

* * *

He point blank refused to come out of his room and felt both relieved and quite upset when they didn't come to even _try_ and entice him out.

Pepper called him two days later when he was curled up on his bed, contemplating the ends of his wings.

"_Tony,"_

Tony flipped the wing back to rest with the other.

"Mm?"

"_Are you alright?"_

"Why?"

"_There's speculation that you ... grew wings,"_

Tony stayed silent and buried his face in the pillow, curling said wings around his chest and cocooning himself in his own little world. Warmth dribbled down his face and he felt pathetic for it.

* * *

**What does one think? Good? Terrible? Supermegafoxyawesomehot? *tick appropriate box***

***sings* I'm back. This just popped into my head. It should be continued (should!) but you know me and my terrible promises. I do have another chapter going at the moment and I'm snowed in so fingers crossed! Please ignore the spelling and grammatical errors!:-)**

**Kermit x**


	2. Chapter 2

Two

* * *

He had been told his whole life that being a mutant was bad. He had thanked the lords that he _wasn't_.

But now he was and he didn't know why.

The day after Pepper rings he begins to punish himself, punish himself for being a mutant.

He should be _normal_, he should be a _human_.

He shouldn't be like _this_.

Tony miserably spreads his wings out so he can look at himself in the window that he's asked JARVIS to turn into a mirror. They're beautiful but _socially not acceptable_.

By that evening he feels sick and lightheaded, everything spinning at an odd rate. He can't remember the last time he ate – come to think of it he can't pinpoint a day when he was able to keep anything down.

He falls unconscious hazily staring at the scarlet bedsheets that were once white.

* * *

The day following his mutilation, Tony is physically unable to get up to do _anything_. He can't move his limbs, his head and not even his wings.

It kind of terrifies him.

It's like someone's flooded his whole body with concrete and left him to set overnight. The billionaire lets a strangled whimper escape his throat. It's the loudest sound he's able to make.

He supposes this is his punishment to being abnormal in a world set in ancient minds.

So he welcomes it.

* * *

The High Priestess of Vaendral was seldom seen in Asgard. It came as a great shock to see the winged goddess entering their realm and even more of a shock to discover she came bearing grave news.

Odin respectfully listened to the Priestess and Thor diligently waited to recount his recent battle upon Midgard.

"I come with an urgency to allow me to access to Midgard,"

Thor perked his golden head up, curious.

"Why do you wish to travel there?" Queen Frigga asked kindly. The High Priestess looked incredibly distressed, dark hair contradicting her pale skin. Wide, chocolate brown eyes sent a laceration of familiarity through Thor's chest.

"My son is dying,"

* * *

**Okay. *coughs* well I'm not sure what to make of this really. I'm not going to make this go very far: a couple more chapters or so I suppose. It's just to blashrjisoafjdksl I don't know **_**what**_** I'm actually doing but I hope this chapter is alright for you guys: I'm a seriously worried person here.**

**It's tiny but the best I can do without rambling! **

**Tell me what you thought? Or not, I don't know. **

**Thank you for the response I got last time though:D**

**Kermit x**


	3. Chapter 3

Three

* * *

His mind is a swirling, writhing mass of emotions and blurred lines: he can't decipher which is for good and which is for bad. He's trapped, encircled, locked in his own memories where every door is a pathway to darkness, every turn is an unknown venture into the penultimate chime of death, every step is a daunted path to tribulation.

And he can't get out.

He can't get out for the life of him.

* * *

Thor quivers with unknown uncertainness. The High Priestess looks desperate and distraught and almost upon feminine instinct, Sif steps forwards, ignoring everyone's piercing eyes to clasp her pale hands in her own.

"Your son?" Odin asks, sounding confused.

"My son. He grows forever weak and it is a bond I cannot ignore," she insists "I have certain attachments to him through my lineage," she flutters one glossy wing.

"Attachments?" Frigga asks, clasping her hands together as her warm eyes flood with maternal emotions. She felt the same with Loki, despite the fact he wasn't her own child by genetic acceptance.

"A bond is passed from mother or father - or both - to their offspring when they gain their wings, much like information is passed in the Midgardian world,"

"And you can _sense_ him?"

"Painfully so," the High Priestess nodded, dark hair tumbling over her porcelain shoulders as she gazes around the glittering golden court.

King Odin and Queen Frigga exchange glances, unable to prevent the High Priestess what she so desperately desired. She hadn't come to see them in a long, long while for anything and this surpassed any of their wildest ideas as to _what_ the problem would be.

It's the least they can do.

* * *

It's been three hours since he passed out and they still don't know. JARVIS has not recognised any of his symptoms as life threatening.

Mainly because he shut JARVIS down.

* * *

Bruce is the first person to pluck up the nerves and guts to go and talk to Tony. The silence as he knocks upon the genius's door is unnerving.

He calls Tony's name, apologises and says he's sorry.

Silence.

His impatience and anger at Tony's stubbornness eventually gets the better of him and he shoves at the door with such Hulk – induced force that the lock snaps and he stumbles into the room.

"Tony,"

The hoarse whisper is torn from his throat not unlike the billionaire's name had been from the Captain's own mouth when Tony had been free-falling from the sky.

But this surpasses that incident. The sight terrifies, sickens and horrifies Bruce to immeasurable extents and before he knows what he's done, he's yelled out for help and hurriedly applied pressure to the crying wounds slashed upon Tony's wrists.

* * *

**I'm back. Wow I'm committing to this story. Just going to give myself a gold star for my effort. This was a bit of a crap filler but I hope it's got enough in it ...**

**And also: I'm **_**NOT**_** encouraging self harm. Don't ever think that you should punish yourself because you are all wonderful, beautiful people! **

**Meh. **

**Review? No? Don't mind:-)**

**Kermit x**


	4. Chapter 4

Four

* * *

She holds herself proudly, eye contact steady and unflinching as she is guided through the corridors towards _his_ room. Thor Odinson leads the way, cautious of her wings that lightly brush the ground and for this she thanks him.

Inside she finds other humans in varying states of panic and fright: a large and well muscled soldier gazes up at her with the most innocent blue eyes she's ever seen. Her heart momentarily stops and she swallows. His pupils dilate as he gazes at her.

"Maria,"

"Steven," she murmurs softly, inclining her gracious head to her long passed away husband's friend.

Technically they should _both_ be dead but those questions can be answered later.

It had been a while since they had seen each other last. But even longer for ... Maria has to hesitate as she catches sight of the disgraced, struggling heap on the bed.

The last moment she had seen him had been at least twenty one years ago: she had seen his terrified face as he desperately told her to_ stay alive!_ But she couldn't and his distraught face had been carried with her to both the grave and the Halls of Vaendral.

She didn't realise until they stung her cheeks that tears had broken free and with all the fluidness of a dolphin gracing the crest of waves, she stepped forth. A woman sat cradling her son's head in his lap whilst another forcefully clamped desperate white fingers on his wrists. Scarlet stained his skin.

"You may leave," Maria murmured. They looked up at her and she could see her own emotions reflected in both sky blue and emerald green. The one at his head looked incredibly hesitant and through the air, Maria sensed a trembling frequency of love. It wavered up and now on various pitches but never hesitated in spurring forth at a proud and valiant pace.

So this was the woman who he had committed too. Maria smiled and rested a hand lightly on the flame haired lady's shoulder as she passed, squeezing gently to let her know she understood. Once they had respected her moment, she took up position by her sons forehead.

He was so, _so_ still that she feared she had been too late. Skin that would be normally a soft, radiant white in his alter-ego appearance was now ivory white and attaining a sickly grey colour. His lips were blue and his eyes were lightly closed. He couldn't feel anything within his pain radius to actually clench them together.

Her heart jumped in her throat as she felt her feathers slip through his, sensing a certain roughness and unkempt appearance. Like he didn't care about them: like he couldn't be bothered to keep them clean. She sighed shakily and ran gentle fingertips over his ice cold cheeks, ghosting over his temples and into his hair. He was _so far gone_.

But Maria would not be beaten. This was her only chance to save her son from his untimely and not scripted death.

And she would not fail.

A Stark _never_ failed.

* * *

He could hear something –someone - singing to him through the pain and terror and within his fright, he felt calm. The crashing, boiling, churning waves of biting emotion and apprehension suddenly halted, raising either side of him. It was like the miracle Moses performed upon the Red Sea. It offered a pathway: a pathway to prosperity and hope.

But he didn't know whether he want to go towards it, whether he should grasp the sweet, life saturated light in both hands and never let go. He wasn't sure whether he should let himself be dragged back to the real world where every breath he took was laden with prejudice and discrimination. He wasn't sure whether he should go back there, where every time he felt his wings move or flutter on his back he felt guilty and ridiculous.

His heart and mind were in a battling turmoil, each fighting furiously against each other in a hideous and gruesome war of twisted emotions and warped memories, viciously slashing against each other and drawing out fresh and steaming doubt for him to mull over as he regained his footing on the field of uncertainty.

He took in a deep breath and turned, away from the light.

"_Tony, please come back to me sweetheart"_

Tony stiffened and stopped his foot from tipping completely into the abyss of no return. He gazed up at the walls either side of him with hissing apprehension. They were so _fragile_, so easy to shatter into miniscule fragments but so _twisted_ and so _mangled_.

"_Tony, please. I lost you once before. I can't lose you again,"_

He took in sharp, constricted breaths and turned toward the source. He knew that voice like he knew his own hands, his own mind, his own reactor. It was as familiar to him as Pepper's smile, as familiar as the anatomy of the Hot Rod engine, as familiar as his own reflection – and more so.

It was always there, lingering in the back of his mind from twenty one years ago when he last heard _her_.

"_Tony, please. Come back to me, let me see your eyes_,"

His heart ached, ached with a fierce intensity of burning love and passion. It was different from the love he felt for Pepper: it was the kind of love that you feel for your relations.

For your mother.

* * *

***sings* your reviews made my very boring morning over here in England at six in the morning much more interesting! You all seem very surprised I'm committing and so am I – I've never known a story where I've stuck at it!;D Thank you all so, so much for the lovely support! I hope that this sudden change wasn't **_**too**_** complicated: think of the first three as starting chapters? I have a brief idea as to where this story is going but suggestions as to what he could face as a bad-ass evil dude later on would be good: it can be a made-up blob or mythical animal or comic- book based one! I can work with anything:3 **

**Again, thank you all so much for your support! I hope this was alright, I'm quite proud of the last part actually. *smug face***

**:)**

**Kermit x**


	5. Chapter 5

Five

* * *

Maria pressed her cheek to Tony's cool forehead, cradling his shoulders in one surprisingly strong arm as the other clasps the fingers of his left hand. Their wings are a salt and pepper combination of glossy white and dull brown. She exhales shakily, song coming to an end.

She used to sing it to him when he was a very small child, usually to soothe him into a peaceful and restful sleep when he was _completely_ exhausted or, when the time arose, to heal minor injuries that didn't take much coercing. The song bore magical properties, spun from the tears of a Phoenix into a melody so thrumming with magic it could even bring people back from the brink of death.

But her son was different, he always had been. When Maria was a child living in Vaendral she had come across the beautifully plumaged bird spread across the balcony of her bedroom. She had nursed the Phoenix back to health, and in return he had given her one favour should she ever need it. This desire came at childbirth when she was told there was a ninety percent chance of her unborn child dying.

And that was the reason why Tony was taking so long to heal: he had the stubborn will and pride of the Phoenix set within his heart via the intervention at his birth. When two Phoenix's clashed it was a battle of wills and temper: the song was from one Phoenix and the fiery magic running through Tony's veins from the one Maria saved as a child.

Healing his wrists and other small cuts was simple as they did not need the supply of energy from Tony himself. Bringing him back from the dead was a whole new task, or the lip of death at the very least. Usually one could sing the song of the Phoenix to a certain individual and they would willingly offer their supply of energy to complete the transaction.

Tony, on the other hand ...

"Tony, please come back to me," Maria whispered in his ear, closing her eyes and reaching out to the dark depths of his mind "Let me see your eyes,"

She slipped unconsciously into old habits despite the fact he was at least fourty two now and she was no longer an earthly mother, rocking back and forth as she continued to whisper words of hope and pleading to her son. It wouldn't do now to lose him when _he_ had lost _her_. It was selfish to think that she despised losing her son to the void now, to watch him die when he had been a _child_ when both she and Howard had lost their lives in that fatal car crash.

Maria swallowed hard, clenching her teeth together. She was unaware of the tears streaming down her face in painful rivers, only focusing on transfusing her energy with that of her sons, begging the two flames of life to _stop_ fighting and _just work together_.

"My Lady,"

Maria opened her eyes, vision swimming and wings twitching in consternation at the interruption. But then she sensed in the air the shimmering, glimmering wavelengths. They are no longer desperate and distraught, mingling with each other in deep and echoing frequencies.

They were overjoyed.

She pulled back, relinquishing her hold upon her son and watched his neck. Very faintly, like the fluttering of a hummingbird she could see his pulse. She let loose a beautiful warble of a cry in pained, aching relief and smoothed her hand over his cheek, glad to feel warmth already returning to his skin.

"Is he ..."

"Yes," Maria whispered fleetingly, glancing up at the redhead who had perched opposite her. Her eyes were warm and she smiled, receiving one back in blessed delight. She sighed and turned to Thor, not bothered about the fact that she most likely looked a mess "Thor, if you would be so kind,"

"My Lady," Thor said graciously, keeping a close eye on his comrade even as he began to show signs of life once more. His chest was beginning to rise a little more prominently despite the fact that he was still incredibly weak.

The demigod stepped forwards, and from a small bag hanging off his waist within the depths of his cloak he produced a glass bottle. The top of the bottle was decorated with a beautifully wrought silver stopper. The glass had been spun in the homes of the Dark Elves to prevent it from melting. Inside this glass was a thick, gloopy amber liquid that stuck to the sides of the bottle like honey.

"What is that?" Natasha asked quietly, voice hesitant and wary. She was still unsure as to who Maria was.

"The nectar from the sun flowers, otherwise known as ambrosia," she said softly, un-corking the bottle. From within the phial a heady, sweet scent burst forth and sent everyone's nerve endings tingling, minds racing to gilded possibilities of a prosperous and glowing future. Clint interrupted this mindset.

"Don't the god's eat that or something?" the archer asked, just as quietly as Natasha. Maria shrugged slightly.

"Not Asgardians, but it is a necessity for all winged beings to consume such a supplement," she said by way of statement. Turning back to her son, Maria slipped the bottle in-between his teeth and tilted his head back. The ambrosia slipped out of the phial and into his throat like water pours from a container.

"And now?" Thor asked politely. Maria let out a shaky breath, smoothing Tony's hair back from his forehead.

"Now, we wait."

* * *

Consciousness came achingly slowly to him, like trying to entice a wary, wild horse to your palm. It was fleeting and skittish, arriving in random and painful bursts of coloured light and infrequent pitches of noise. With this painful drag to reality comes the pain, a steady and heavy throbbing that lies everywhere around his body.

The light that blinded his irises when he opened them was too much. His body ached still but then there was a deliciously cool and sweet liquid rushing through his throat _and_ bloodstream.

There was a hand on his forehead, dainty but tender. He slumped and fell unconscious again.

* * *

Bruce Banner sat at the main dining table in Stark Tower, surrounded by holograms along with the mother of Tony Stark who sat opposite in all her glowing glory. It was all a bit surreal to start off with when a beautiful winged goddess had easily slipped into their abode. To _then_ find out that she was Tony's mother had kind of blown things off the top of the mountain, so to put it.

She was incredibly polite and gentle with everyone however temperamental her son had turned out. At the moment she was sat with Bruce as he went over the scans of Tony's body, marveling at the natural, rapid growth of his wings. He was no longer wary of the wings, beginning to see through Tony's eyes that mutation wasn't bad.

Hell, he was technically a mutant so why was he freaked out?

He supposes it was just because it was so sudden, so _in your face_. He couldn't help but glance up at Maria every so often from behind his glasses, sweeping eyes over the wings she spawned on her back.

She noticed, eventually, and smiled sweetly.

"You seem intrigued;" she said softly "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm just a little awed by _them_," he waved a hand at her glossy white wings flecked with silver. Maria curled one around her petite body, catching the smooth feathers in her fingertips.

"Many people are: even Asgardians are interested as to how they come about. It's all about heritage,"

"Heritage?" Bruce asked, lowering his hand to the glass table and compressing a diagram of Tony's heart so it was barely as large as a Malteser. Maria nodded, dark hair bobbing about.

"You cannot attain wings unless your heritage allows for it,"

"So Tony ..."

"Tony received his wings through myself. Despite the fact he was born to a Midgardian father and Vaendralic mother-"

"Vaendralic?"

"A certain race," Maria said of handedly at the interruption "You needed worry about them right now. As I was saying, despite the odd mixture, he received his wings through certain genetic consequences.

"When I came down from Vaendral, my home realm, to visit planet earth I had the unfortunate encounter with one Howard Stark. Eventually, one thing led to another and you get the rest. Because of the blood union between myself and Howard, Tony attained certain characteristics that made him look human from his father's side of the DNA spectrum,"

"But how did you conceal your wings?" Bruce asked in interest "I mean they're pretty big,"

"I asked the High Priestess of the time, my mother, to remove them from me so I could live a human life without being caught. Even then, mutants were despised – even more so than they are in this century. However, despite the lack of wings, I was still wholly Vaendralic through and through in my blood, soul and mind and it seems that, with the transfusion of the Phoenix favour, Tony caught on many genetics that were my own – this includes the wing gene that very few take on board unless their lineage dates back to the High Vaendral of Centuries Gone By,"

Bruce shivered automatically at the name, noting how she emphasised each starting letter as if there was a necessity for capitals. "But how come they've only just appeared?"

"When the Phoenix helped me with childbirth he bestowed certain limitations upon Tony's access to his wings. He sensed that my son would lead in the life of Howard, who as you know had a pretty colourful back-story of women, alcohol and general bad-doings. He told me that Tony would only earn his wings once he had proven himself worthy as a Vaendralic,"

"Well he got them _after _the Battle of New York but we haven't done much since then," Bruce offered, scrunching up his nose.

"Did he do anything particularly heroic in this battle?"

"He took a nuclear warhead into outer-space ..." Bruce said slowly, glancing up at the High Priestess sat before him.

Maria raised one eyebrow and tapped the table with her fingernails as if to prove her point. Bruce sat back with this new information, well and truly suddenly looked sad.

"I do wish however that I had told him about them earlier ..." she mused "It would have prevented this catastrophe from occurring. I am sorry for any confusion and pain that I may have caused you all,"

"You needn't worry, My Lady" Bruce said politely, remembering how Thor had addressed her as such, "It wasn't actually _all _your fault: Tony asked us what we would do if any of us were mutants,"

"And you said?" Maria asked archly, seeing the blush in the scientists cheeks.

"That we wouldn't mind, that we'd support them. We went back on that promise," Bruce admitted guiltily. He ran a hand through his hair in burning embarrassment. Maria looked distinctly unimpressed but didn't say much more, respecting Bruce's mortification and upset.

"We are all to blame in this sticky web, Bruce Banner. Even Tony,"

Bruce didn't dare to ask why.

* * *

**Hola! I gave you another one because I'm lovely and I watched Avengers Assemble and found out that Robert Downey Jr. was the only guy on set who needed a hair stylist, driver and assistant. **

**No-one else did. Just him. The cute tart. **

**You guys just ... ah. Stuck at home from the snow because Britain is pathetic with ice and anything that sticks to the ground so I managed to spew out this. I'm not very happy with the last bit but ho-hum pigs bum. Y'know. Thank you for all the support! The Phoenix, by the way, has nothing to do with the X-Men or Jean Grey. Thought I'd just clear up any confusion ... but if it _is_ confusing, tell me and I'll try to correct it and make it simpler:-)**

**Thank you!**

**All mistakes are my own. **

**Kermit x**


	6. Chapter 6

Six

* * *

Later that day when they had been assured that Tony was in a stable condition back up in the helicarrier medical bays, the Avengers sat staring at the scans the doctors had sent them. With a bit of holographic manipulation and JARVIS's help they had finally draw up a glowing red image of Tony's body - once morphed that was.

Bruce, for one, was in awe of the arc reactor as opposed to the wings. The doctor that had operated on him in Afghanistan had done an incredible job of slotting it in – the biggest problem Bruce could find was a slight crack in the base plate of the reactor casing where it rubbed against the bone of his sternum but JARVIS assured them that Tony knew about it.

The wings, on the hologram, were highlighted in various different colours to accentuate the different muscles and bone. Red was shown as the muscles he used most and thus were the most essential, green to signify those that were minor but essential for flight and blue to display the bone structure.

At the very base of Tony's wings were what Bruce identified as 'scapula's – these were shoulder blades. However, within Tony's scapula sat 'jump cups', much like the holders one would see in a showjumping ring. These 'cups' supported the humerus and allowed for rotation and flexion of the bone. Around the base of the humerus where it settled inside of the jump cup sat an amount of excess fatty tissue to support it. Banded ligaments kept it from scraping against bone and allowed for full extension and flexion.

Along from this sat the ulna and radius, the bones that are in ones forearm. Much like they did on a human limb, these allowed for extra rotation; back-winging, cupping to slow oneself down for example. Attached to the ends of these were bones that humans did not have: the longbone, as it was so originally named, stretched for a good while to make up the impressive length of his twenty five feet wingspan, eight feet longer than that of his mothers. Smaller, slightly further apart bones allowed him to curl his wingtips.

All along the skeletal anatomy of Tony Stark's wings sat a thick, glowing red mass of muscle as wide as Clint's hand balled into a fist, essential for lift and stability in high G-Force winds. Feathers varying in size and length depending on their point about the ligament made up the large area of wing that caught the air and moved it about. The feathers were longest at the primary and secondary remiges whereas the shortest originated as the scapulars and alulae.

It was silent inside of the tower for a while as everyone absorbed the images, Bruce manipulating them to stretch down and out as a relaxed posed and up and back when stiff. They could visibly see how the bones and muscles worked in synchrony to allow for comfort, manoeuverability and strength.

"I'd guess," Bruce said to them all "That one smack in the face from them would send you away with a broken nose and heavily bruised face, maybe even knock you unconscious depending on how powerful they actually are seeming as we don't know how much he's used them that is,"

"You're going to let him try?" Natasha asked quietly. Bruce studied the assassin and sighed, nodding.

"We have to accept him as he is, Tasha. Having wings is pretty ..."

"Cool," Clint said with a grin, peering at the hologram and looking at the structure of the wings sprouting from Tony's back "He's like a proper hawk now,"

"I do not think Tony will want to be Hawkeye, Clint," Thor said warmly, walking into the room with a large box in his hand. It was jam-packed with ambrosia and Clint wondered what it tasted like. He nodded politely at them all and walked outside onto Tony's landing pad, swinging his hammer and dissapearing off in the direction of the helicarrier.

"That's a point," Natasha said suddenly as Bruce walked off to make tea "How's Tony going to use the Iron Man suit now he's got wings?"

"He'll figure it out," Steve spoke up, rubbing his forehead as he thought deeply "He's a genius. That's what they do: they think of ways to get around problems,"

Natasha nodded and leant back, sharpening her knives and gazing at the hologram of her winged teammate.

* * *

Maria contemplated her son from the chair she sat on, ever the critic of her offspring. Achingly, she could see _so _much of Howard in him; the jawline, the curve and dip of his nose, the heavy engineering hands, the way his forehead furrowed even when he was asleep. She couldn't help but brush her fingertips over his features, reminiscing about the days when he would help her in the kitchen, play tag with Jarvis the butler. A nostalgic smile passed over her features as she remembered that Tony had named his electronical butler after the steadfast British minder who had looked after Tony as a child.

He was still soft at heart, was her son.

She looked more closely at Tony as time passed and the dainty High Priestess could pick out aspects of herself here and there. His chin and forehead was her own: the sloping shoulders and the hair. Howard had, admittedly, never had very good hair and she was privately happy that Tony had inherited her own. From where she sat she noticed that it was streaked with gold and very bright hues of red. The Phoenix effect.

And those dark, inquisitive brown eyes too. They were her – _wait._

Maria Stark sucked in a small breath through her nose and hovered her hand over where she was about to grasp Tony's.

She didn't need to lower her fingers: he caught them for her and held on like a lifeline.

* * *

Steve Rogers was the first Avenger to visit the medical ward of the helicarrier after the 'incident' as it had been dubbed. Technically, they had all be restricted to certain visiting hours by Bruce to begin with but he had assured them that, if they were quiet and respectful, they could see how he was doing.

Steve had been warned that Maria was there so most likely, she wouldn't want to converse with anyone. Steve had therefore had told himself that if she _was_ there, then he would leave her be with Tony no matter how long she had initially been there for. She was his mother, after all and they hadn't seen each other for a long, long time.

He softly pushed open the door after knocking and the first thing he saw, just from colour alone, were the wings. No picture, or memory or even hologram could quite match up to the sheer beauty of Tony's wings and he found himself swallowing down a squeak of awe.

"Captain Rogers, come in"

Steve startled at the voice and glanced to Tony's bedside where Maria sat. He blushed crimson and slipped inside, accepting the invite without hesitation despite his initial thoughts. It had been a while since he had seen her: Howard had met up with Maria literally two days before he crashed and got frozen in time. They had gotten on well, however and she had had the privilege of using his shield once when she and Howard had had a bit of a laugh with a gun.

He found the notion of 'a laugh with a gun' all a bit too dangerous now.

"Ma'am," he said politely, scanning Tony with critical blue eyes.

"It's been a while, Steve" Maria said gently, never taking her own dark irises from the super-soldier who sat awkwardly in the chair that was a bit too small for him. Steve smiled and rubbed his nose.

"A long while, yes" he agreed. They lapsed into silence before Maria broke the ice. Steve chuckled at the thought. It always turned out to be the Stark's who 'broke the ice' above him.

"I have been talking with Bruce Banner and he said that you all made a promise to my son,"

Steve swallowed again and looked incredibly ashamed. "Yeah, we did. I always keep my promises ... but"

"But?" he could trace no anger, no disapproval, only curiosity.

"I don't know. I think I was scared. I mean, it was hard enough to me to cope with everything to begin with after coming out and that kinda ..." he swiped his hand horizontally through the air as it to mimic brushing things away.

"Blew everything out from under your feet?"

"Yeah. As you know ... people with other extremities were not ever seen _back then_. I think the only person I came across who wasn't wholly human was the Red Skull and he died,"

"I was never wholly human, Steve," Maria pointed out gently "The only reason I looked human was because I didn't have wings and my body could naturally fall into the appearance of a human being because of my willpower to be like Howard. If I had been walking around with wings and the features I have now, would you have still been as courteous to me?"

"I would have been amazed and I would have tried to get you out of the compound," Steve grinned and Maria chuckled gently, agreeing that had she shown the world she had wings she'd have been captured and experimented on.

"Then why didn't you show the same courteousness to Tony?" she pressed, suddenly serious again. Steve shrugged awkwardly, leaning back in his chair and twiddling his thumbs.

"We never got on that well to begin with,"

"That's no excuse, Steve," Maria warned and Steve blushed again, nodding. There were very few people who could make him feel small in a way that he still regained his dignity. Maria didn't do it intentionally, she just wanted answers.

"I know, I'm sorry. But honestly, we've never seen eye to eye and we've never agreed with what each other thinks – morals and ethics and the such. I suppose when he showed them in battle – he had to shatter joint the suit for one reason or another – I was just so shocked ..."

"You felt betrayed in some ways?"

"Yeah, but I suppose he did too," Steve murmured, glancing at Tony who was silent and still fast asleep. "I mean we promised that we would treat him like a normal human being and then we cold shouldered him. He has a habit of locking himself away when he's upset ... usually we try to get him to talk but ..."

"You were still absorbing the information that he wasn't human," Maria said by way of statement. Steve nodded.

"It wasn't right of us ... but if you don't mind me saying, it wasn't right of him?" his question was hesitant but Maria nodded in affirmation and so he went on "He could have explained it to us when we got back instead of just hiding away ..."

Maria sighed heavily and nodded her agreement before twitching her own white wings once, glossy feathers reflecting the dim lighting that had been required by Bruce.

"Think about it, Steve. If you had wings in a team where you could get killed with one flick of a wrist, how would you feel?"

"Terrified," Steve said automatically. His eyes opened a fraction of a way as he continued in realization "Scared ... worried I suppose and also vaguely concerned about other people's thoughts on me,"

"Now think about Tony's mindset," Maria added. She _knew_ how her son thought and felt and lived – she could feel it now and she knew every memory of him bar those that she respectfully left for privacy.

"He's very sarcastic I suppose, but there are moments when I find Pepper hugging _him_ because he's had nightmares. JARVIS told me he has them frequently, especially after the battle for New York,"

"He's not a whole human, Steve. He's a mixture of races: I saved a Phoenix when I was very young and he gave me one favour in thanks should I ever need it. I used it at childbirth when there was a ninety percent chance Tony would die in my womb. Because of this he has three different races mingling with each other in his bloodlines: human, Vaendralic and Phoenix,"

"Phoenix is a race?"

"Yes, but they very rarely help beings unless they have done them a great deed. To have the power of a Phoenix in your body is both an incredible and dangerous thing to have. Your mind switches from the Phoenix blood to your other half - human or Asgardian or Vaendralic and it is usually balanced out quite evenly. Because Tony has _three_ different mindsets, he finds it incredibly difficult to focus on one and so stay in one mood,"

"So he's not just hormonal,"

Maria smiled, squeezing Tony's hand gently. "No, he isn't. I do not suppose even he know about his lineage but it would be best to talk to him about why he cut himself off fully to you all,"

Steve nodded and sighed, feeling a little more at ease now he had told someone about his roiling emotions. "I do feel bad for what I have done but the past is the past I suppose. Gotta move on to the future,"

"Indeed," Maria affirmed warmly, fluttering her wingtips gently "I'm surprised you haven't spoken about the wings yet. That was all Bruce could focus on,"

"Bruce is a man of science; he loves to know how human and other worldly bodies work. Besides. I'm sure you've had a million questions upon them,"

"Not true, actually. However I sense you are content with your knowledge,"

"I just want to make a truce with Tony now," Steve admitted "I'm sure his wings are fine: Bruce drew up a diagram yesterday so we all know how they work and how to take care of them should they get injured,"

Maria found tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she glanced down at her son who still slept easily.

"I suspect Clint and Natasha will be around next," Steve said gently and got up, asking if Maria needed a drink or anything. She respectfully declined and Steve took his leave.

"See," Maria murmured gently to Tony as she settled back in her chair and arranged her wings more comfortably "They do care,"

She liked to think that Tony squeezed her hand in confirmation.

* * *

***dies* you guys were so sweet! Thank you so much for your support: I'm enjoying writing this now. And I have another snow day from school so, huzzah! **

**I got one request for longer chapters but I find that I ramble when I do so. This one is longer than previously, or so one thinks but I can only fit a certain amount in without making it boring. I hope these will suffice: and that Steve's worked everything out. **

**Kind of. **

**Thank you again and all mistakes are my own:)**

**Kermit x**


	7. Chapter 7

Seven

* * *

_Sifting through his memories is much like sifting flour into a bowl for baking scones. He finds that the smaller, more insignificant stories slip past his waking conscience like water past a rubbery solid and the larger ones stick like boulders trying to get through a too-small crack. _

_It's these that he focuses on, digging out his scalpel and slicing away the delicate membrane of the memory to delve inside and discover whatever he had been envisioning, witnessing, watching. There are some he would prefer not to remember, prefer to take in both hands, roll away and lock in a cupboard. _

_And yet these ones are sticky, releasing clingy tendrils to wrap around his attention and to tug him in, into the fray and into his past. It's almost like an octopus had taken up residence inside of these memories, ready to catch him if he tried to escape. _

_And there was one memory wherein the octopus was a fully fledged pirate with an angry, blood thirsty view on his life, forcefully wrenching him inside and locking all ways out. _

_He watches from a third person point of view for a while, standing on a long and winding path that he recognises as one of the routes out of Long Island. Thunder crashes in the sky and the rain lashes through him as headlights appear 'round the corner. _

_He recognises this situation immediately and swallows heavily, tries to back up and out of the memory. There's a seemingly solid wall behind him, fixing his ethereal body in place, forcing him to watch. _

_Then, like one would be caught in a tidal wave, he's thrown into a swirling, writhing mass of both his and his parent's emotions, stuck in the car. Three different spectrums of colour and smell and sense bombard his spiritual body and he see's three different scenes at once. The sensation is overwhelming, frightening, terrifying and he wants to scream, to curl up in a ball and never wake up. _

_Whichever way he turns he's stuck, blood lingering down one path and the mangled face of his father the next. He feels an unbidden surge of paralytic terror flood through his stiff body and from one shifting angle he sees himself, through his mother's eyes. _

_She's upset and scared herself as she watches him speak, reaching out to clasp his scratched and bleeding hand with her own pale one. _

_From another spectrum it's himself, rage and anger and distress crashing like waves into his heart and mind, quickly followed by a backwash of loneliness. He can feel his tears, her tears and even his father's tears from where they run down his cheeks from the fluid left in his eyes. He's dead already. _

_He tears at his hair, screams for a release, for him to be let out of his living nightmare, trembling and shivering as he watches his mother die, raw hurt and pain bubbling over and transforming into fully fledged tears as he reaches forwards, presses his hand to Maria's neck and finds no pulse. _

_No heartbeat. _

_No signal of life. _

_She'd dead, she's dead, she's dead –_

Tony wakes up with a violent intake of breath, feeling hands on his cheeks, on his arms, on his chest, on his neck. He hears the heart monitor as one flat, static drone and terror lances up his back, sending a riveting spasm through his shoulders.

With an almighty jerk his wings snapped up, catching all four doctors who had been trying to calm him down in their torso's with one fell swoop. They flew backwards into the walls, heads colliding against the metal and plaster with sickening cracks. Tony took in haggard breaths, fingers numbly clenching and unclenching as the limbs on his back quivered with unresolved tension.

Before he knew what he was doing, his IV line dangled limply from the fluid bag, dribbling a mixture of ambrosia and morphine onto the floor: not that he knew this. There was blood running down through the webbing in-between his fingers and he wiped it on the white sheets, wildly looking around.

_Door, door. Doors are always a way out right?_

Tony swallowed, taking in panicked breaths as he tried to remember the person who had clasped his hand three days ago: the woman who looked so much like his mother.

_Maybe she was through that door, waiting on the other side for him_.

The billionaire let out a strangled whimper, unsure of whether he should open it. After all, the doors he had been opening for a while now had only led him down gruesome paths of depression and darkness. Had he been on the heart monitor still, it would still be a single monotone wail penetrating the air.

His adrenaline was too powerful for his heart to keep up with at the moment. Tony sank down against one wall, wrapping a trembling wing around his foetal position to shield him from the outside world as he tried to steady himself.

'_I know men worth ten of you,'_

'_Come on, son! I know you can do better than that!'_

'_Damn it Tony, I thought you were good! I thought you cared for Tash!'_

'_You're a mutant, Tony. You always have and always will be a blemish upon the earth!'_

Tony felt the icy, painful air rush through his throat, piercing every cell and every part of his body as the frigidness trembled through his frame. He wanted it to _stop_, to stop making him shiver and quake pathetically but his chest was painfully constricted and burning with an intensity he didn't know he had in him.

His mind was too big for his skull, throbbing and heaving behind his eyes as they greyed out to pinpricks, giving him the sensation of being so high up, _so very high up_. He choked as the tightness increased in his chest, a light but then again oddly solid and uneven beat thumping away beside the reactor. Sweat ran down his back, neck and face even as he clenched feathers underneath his hand, fingers shaking so violently that they moved up and down an inch either way in quick succession.

"_Tony?"_

There was that voice again, penetrating through the fog and haze circulating around his trembling body like a lance pierces armour.

"_Tony, come on, calm down,"_

A cool hand ran down his bare back and something warm and incredibly comforting slipped in-between his feathers.

"_Come on, sweetheart. You're okay, just calm down, focus on something solid,"_

Tony blinked blearily, still shaking violently as he felt arms wrap around his chest and shoulders, careful to avoid the base of his wings that were still quite sore from lying awkwardly upon.

He thought of Pepper, and then the woman he had seen beside his bedside a while ago.

Somewhere in his mind, the blazing, fiery mess that fuelled the adrenaline frazzled out slightly, leaving him with a larger sense of clarity.

"_That's it, Tony. Come on, it's me"_

Tony swallowed, sensing an alien but not unwelcome mind tugging through the delicate strands of his consciousness. They were very tender, slipping apart the heart-wrenching and terrifying memories from his waking mind, soothing him down and reducing the amount of epinephrine sweeping through his body.

Slowly, as if he were dragging a large rock up a steep hill, his vision returned. It started with his peripheral vision, offering him a sectioned view of the world around his body. He swallowed as he saw a mass of white streaked with silver and shivered. The arms did not shift and he blinked to see who it was. That _scent_ was still there, and exotic, comforting mixture of cinnamon, lavender and another he could not pinpoint.

He swallowed and twitched one wingtip feebly

"I'm here, Tony. We just need you to calm down,"

"Mum?" he asked in a trembling whisper. It would have been clichéd to say so, but to be perfectly honest, the emotion of one's heart aching so heavily it was unbearable was emotionally and physically apt.

His reply was a smile into his hair, a squeeze to the hand and a reply so soft it was like the flutter of a butterfly's wings.

And another piece of his scattered jigsaw slipped into place.

* * *

Progress was rapid from Tony after he realised Maria was real. Bruce was secretly delighted and took regular checks upon the billionaire, finally managing to iron out a few kinks. It seemed that with the solid information that his mother _wasn't_ an illusion and _wasn't_ someone playing tricks on him, he came to terms with many things.

Bruce still worried over his psychological problems however. Maria had explained that the 'Phoenix' part of his mind had been triggered by a memory – she didn't know what because he had closed it off but the aftershocks that she got when she touched his conscience with her own were powerful and quite overwhelming.

But she then assured him that he would be quite alright now. Bruce nodded and turned back around to watch Tony. The billionaire would be discharged from his room on the helicarrier soon and Bruce aimed to get tests: just simple things as in how much momentum he could reach, the maximum height without passing out and how his wings worked in flight. When he told Tony as such, the genius looked up from the Rubix's Cube he was sorting for the eighth time in five minutes.

"What for?" Tony asked quietly. He was still quite edgy around them all, a mixture of both deep embarrassment and slight betrayal although he didn't hold it against them. Maria had told Bruce that Tony was aiming to speak to them about it one day.

She didn't specify when though, but Bruce was fine with that. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders lightly at Tony's question however.

"It's to help you, I suppose,"

"Help me?" Tony asked archly, raising one eyebrow. Bruce fancied he saw a flicker of flame lick the ends of his wings. Another glance told him otherwise and he sat down heavily in a rather comfortable chair, rubbing his forehead and removing his glasses.

"Listen, Tony. We all regret what we did but we have to move on ... we're honestly willing to help you here. It's to gauge how fast you can go, how high and how your wings move in time with both the environment and your body," he added after eyebrow prompting from the genius. There was a pause before:

"You're not going to cut me open are you?"

"The fuck?" Bruce swore, forehead creasing. He felt slightly angry that Tony would think they'd do a biopsy on him just because he had wings. "Tony you're my _friend_. Hell, even if we were enemies and I was drafted in to look at you I wouldn't _cut you open_,"

Tony's constant cussing was rubbing off on him, so it seemed.

"Can't always trust everyone, Brucie" Tony replied in a small voice. He sounded slightly more reassured however and Bruce smiled at the familiar nickname.

"You gotta trust us now, Tony. Now you've got the wings we need to take more preliminary precautions,"

"Why?"

"Keep an eye on you. I mean, we may be fine with the fact that you've got them but you've got to remember how many people are out for _me_ because of the Other Guy. Now there are two of us, god knows what extents they're going to go to catch us,"

"So technically we're not Science Bro's anymore?" Tony asked, cocking his head to the side. Bruce caught sight of a shimmer of gold flicker through Tony's tawny eyes and he both shivered and grinned.

"More like-"

"The Flying Hulk!"

Tony and Bruce startled at the sound and then looked directly upwards at the air vent. Clint was staring down at them, head resting on his crossed arms. He was smiling and looked quite content with both himself and the nickname. Glancing across at a beaming Tony, Bruce smiled as he realised Clint had sorted things out with the billionaire.

"So you two have spoken with each other?"

"If you mean sorted our shit out, then yes we have my big green runner bean," Clint said, easing fluidly into received pronunciation and sounding remarkably like both Jude Law and Prince William in one go.

"Four down, one to go," Tony murmured. Bruce frowned.

"Natasha still hasn't spoken to you?" Clint asked; face twisting into a thinking mask. He looked a bit like he was constipated and Bruce took down a mental note not to ever tell him as such. Tony shook his head and shrugged lightly.

"She was edgy around me _before_ I had these-" he raised his wings up slightly to embed his point "-I think now she wouldn't touch me with a barge pole,"

"She'll come round, Tony" Clint assured, sounding remarkably gentle. Tony sighed, the muscles ridging his shoulders and upper arms visibly tensing and relaxing.

"Let's hope so. I don't want to wake up one morning with a stiletto in my chest,"

Clint and Bruce couldn't help but laugh at the image and for the first time in weeks, heavy tension between them dissipated. Tony smiled freely, the most loosely since the Battle for New York.

Things were looking up.

But they weren't out of the woods yet.

* * *

**YOU LOT. I'm so sorry! The updates will be slightly slower now as I'm back at school and practically **_**dragging**_** myself up hills with the amount of ILT I have! Again, ILT is homework because my school is odd and bizarre and we're in the Forest of Dean so everyone's a bit kooky and has seven toes and webbed fingers.**

**Allegedly.**

**I'm not insinuating anything. *wiggles all fourteen toes***

**Anyway, I hope this was sufficient enough for you – I certainly enjoyed writing it. **

**Also, if any of the panic attack was wrong (I mean I used Wikipedia and we all know it's not **_**that**_** reliant) then just tell me! Next chapter should be nice because I'm including a few different but familiar characters ¬.¬ HAHAHAHA. Sorry. **

**AND ACTION ON HIGHER LEVELS. I WONDER WHETHER YOU WILL GET THAT.**

**Leoness - thank you for your review. I updated literally as yours came through for chapter six so I haven't been able to go back over this but I will! I always have troubles with apostrophes so I'll try to correct that ... hopefully! :L Any in here, just point them out if you wish and thank you!**

**Thank you for reading! All mistakes are my own stupid fault!**

**Kermit x**


	8. Chapter 8

Eight

* * *

Reed Richards grumbled to himself. It was a very manly grumble because Mr Fantastic does not do anything other than manly grumbles.

Johnny Storm thought otherwise when he found the scientist clinging to the ceiling of the bathroom, screaming for help once.

"It's a _moth_, Johnny,"

"It isn't _just_ a moth, Reed. It's a disabled moth. It needs a wheelchair," Johnny had replied snarkily and stalked off with the fluttering light-criminal in the palm of his hand.

However this time the scientist come astrophysicist had a valid excuse to be grumbling in an awfully manly way. Not ten minutes ago he had received a text message from an unknown number, demanding that they go up to the 'helicarrier'.

And what was the helicarrier? Reed didn't have a single clue. Because of this bliss ignorance, the marvellously talented superhero had resolutely bypassed the text message purely on the basis that he didn't know anything about it. But the niggling feeling that there was someone who desperately needed him ticked away in the back of his mind.

Call it a superhero instinct or whatnot.

His phone vibrated again suddenly and begrudgingly Reed picked up it, flipping open his messages inbox and reading the short plea.

_Reed. Need your help. Please come up to the helicarrier ASAP with contacts._

Reed frowned at the extra request. Contacts? He sighed, quickly penning a message back with one hand, fingers darting around each other swiftly.

_I don't know who you are or what the helicarrier is so, sorry. – Reed. _

He threw his phone to the side and went back to his work, quickly slipping back into the groove; but not without _that feeling _bouncing around in his mind like a rabid bunny. And then, exactly fourteen minutes later his phone rang. With a tremendous sigh Reed reached out to the phone that now lay several feet away and pressed the answer button to the unknown caller.

"If this is a cold caller, then please don't try to endorse me with your whimsical products," he said automatically, widening one eye with ease to the size of the bottom of a Coke bottle as he gently moved the nucleus of a plant cell into a Petri dish.

"_Reed, you're turning into me,"_

Reed startled momentarily before grinning and shaking his head as he recognised the voice.

"I should have known it would have been you. Why are you coming through on an unknown number? I have you saved in my phone; surely you could call through JARVIS or something,"

"_My phone's back in Stark Tower. I'm on the helicarrier right now,"_

"What is the helicarrier? You've been telling me to go there when I don't know what it is," Reed asked, thoroughly perplexed as he quickly amplified and cleared the static coming through the line from Tony's side.

"_It's the floating headquarters for S.H.I.E.L.D. I need your help and I need your contacts,"_

"As in contact lenses? I don't wear contacts, Tony" Reed said. He knew what S.H.I.E.L.D was. Hell, _everyone_ knew what and who S.H.I.E.L.D was now.

"_I know, but you were developing them for Johnny, weren't you? You already know how intense his flame can reach but you then wanted to find out how his internal organs coped with flight. You also wanted to know how fast he could go. Bruce wants to do the same with me,"_

"But you have JARVIS in the suit, don't you?" Reed asked, removing his glasses with a little moulding of his ears. There was an odd silence on the other end of the phone before:

"_There's a quinjet about to arrive outside of the Baxter Building. Get in and bring the contacts with you,"_

"Tony, wait-"

But Tony had already hung up.

* * *

Reed's eyes bulged when he got aboard the helicarrier and entered Tony Stark's room. Apparently he had been moved to a more ... luxurious area to relax properly without any beeping monitors or medical equipment surrounding him. But it wasn't the room that made Reed gape – it was quite simplistic actually with a bed, desk, lights and movable glass screens.

But the wings were beautiful, spanning a good way _over_ the bedsides in a perfectly arranged mass of feather, muscle and bone. He tried not to gawp and stammer but it was quite hard to prevent his body from doing such actions.

"Ah, Reed," the billionaire greeted quietly, untangling himself from the redhead who was fast asleep on his chest. She frowned as his warmth disappeared but settled down as he softly set her against the bedsheets. She then buried her face in the pillow. Reed smiled. Sue did that when she missed him.

"Well you've ...changed," Reed murmured as Tony softly shut the door and lead the short way to a laboratory down a flight of steps. Tony's wingtips draped along the ground, even when held aloft and Reed walked a few paces back so as not to step upon them.

"You could say that," the reply came. He sounded cautious and wary of Reed which was something that shocked the co-mutant. Tony kicked open the doors and entered his lab that was a wonderfully unorganised mess of metal, soldering irons, glass screens, holograms and flyaway bits of paper. In one corner Reed could see the helmet of the Iron Man resting on a stand, halfway through being repaired. The torso hung from chains suspended from the ceiling.

He immediately relaxed in the familiar mess and kicked aside a piece of scrap metal that bore no immediate importance seeming as it was pockmarked with holes and soot.

"So the contact lenses. What does Bruce want to do with them?" Reed asked, sitting down on a swivelly chair and digging out a glass box. Two sets of clear lenses sat upon cushioning gel.

"Just like you wanted to do with Johnny before you realised they would melt when he turned his flame on," Tony replied, highlighting the statement with amusement as he picked up a device that he put upon his head. "This will measure my brainwaves and how much stress is put upon my body in flight – everything I see they'll see because this-" he tapped the deceive resting on his temples "-is connected, or will be to those," he gestured to the contact lenses inside their little box.

"How soon do you hope to use them?" Reed asked, reaching out absently to take the headpiece from Tony's head. The billionaire tilted for easier access, not fazed by the fact Reed's arm was twice the length it should naturally be.

"Tomorrow afternoon. I've already had JARVIS start running diagnostics on the contacts and all I need to do now ..." he trailed off as his forehead furrowed synthetically, typing away on a keyboard that made no sense whatsoever to Reed "Is to apply the synthetic radio frequencies between the two pieces of tech. It'll take a little while but ... y'know,"

It became quiet in the lab apart from the slight tinkering of the genius as his tools clattered about and occasional humming from both human and electrics. And then, out of nowhere Tony's left wing jerked upwards, slamming into a shelving unit and scattering a whole collection of books, equipment and random metal onto the floor.

Reed had never seen Tony flustered before but the genius began burbling out apologies as he hurriedly picked up the items he had thrown unintentionally about the room. The tips of his wings still quivered with unresolved anticipation and the muscles on his back flexed and contracted.

"You really want to get out there, don't you?" Reed said softly, winding his hands out to help the genius pick up his mess. There was a shy smile.

"I've not had the chance to fly properly," Tony admitted as he moved his books of thermonuclear physics (told you, Hill) to another desk out of his reach "Ran into some problems really early on after they grew ... been hospitalised for a while,"

"Took to the blade?" Reed said sympathetically. Tony shrugged, running a hand over his smooth face. Reed felt a deep pang of sympathy for the usually incredibly brash and loud billionaire that had grown so _quiet_.

"Got low. Seriously low. I revealed them in a battle when the suit failed – major shock-wave passed through the system and everything but the arc frazzled. Needless to say it wasn't a pretty experience from there on,"

"You're alright now though?" Reed asked, tugging papers towards him and absently mimicking Tony's signature on a few – he was a bit of a copycat when it came to autographs.

"I should be. Mum says that I have a split mind though ... something 'bout a Phoenix,"

"Mum?" Reed asked in astonishment, looking up at Tony with dark, blazing eyes. The billionaire opposite him grinned and tilted his head again in affirmation. His wings gave an involuntary twitch again and Reed shot his hand out to catch the phial of acid that Tony's wings brushed from the table.

"I'll explain later," Tony said as he slipped Reed's contacts into a small metal box and then attached his own headpiece onto a small stand to lever it off the table. Tweezers came into the equation as well as special light refracting glasses and Reed took this as a good chance to shut-up.

But he was more than content to sit and watch Tony Stark, occasionally signing some papers and checking up on Pepper when the genius got a bit worried about her.

* * *

It was late by the time the scientists retired to bed. Reed had phoned up Sue to tell her where he was and that he'd be back later on in the week and accepted the small room offered by Maria Hill. She was cautious of his flexibility initially as he caught a paper that went fluttering to the ground through her fingers but it seemed like they got on after that.

Tony was bone weary as he walked back from the small kitchens aboard the helicarrier, holding a glass of ambrosia in his hand. His mother had explained that it was vital to drink it every day to replenish his energy, stamina and blood-flow otherwise things could all go quite pear-shaped.

Maria had also told him to eat, despite the fact that he didn't really want to. Bruce had shown him an internal X-Ray of his organs and explained that his stomach had shrunk to make room for his rapidly enlarged lungs. This was, being that he could now fly and become airborne he needed to take in a much larger supply of oxygen to maintain such faculties.

Upon querying why Johnny Storm didn't get the same bodily changes as he did, Bruce and Maria both said it was because of the wings. With a different skeletal layout and much more muscle to provide oxygen for, Tony would quite quickly pass out with the lungs of said flaming superhero and thus, he needed to compensate, and so his stomach had shrunk. Needless to say Tony was neither pleased nor disappointed with this compromise.

His liquor intake had completely disappeared too: where Maria's lineage originated from they didn't drink any alcoholic beverages because it completely screwed their metabolisms and completely incapacitated them even with a small glass of wine. Tony wasn't impressed with this but after numerous tries at downing a glass of scotch he very rapidly gave up: it was like drinking lemon juice, battery acid, blood and the excrement of a skunk.

Yes, it had happened to him in MIT. And it was Rhodey's fault, he hastened to add.

The billionaire sipped at his drink of glowing amber liquid, eyes unfocused as he entered his room where Pepper still slept on. It had been three hours since he and Reed had gone to the laboratory and the poor redhead was still out of it, exhausted from the to-do that had been going on for a while. She stirred, however when Tony settled down on the bed next to her after a trip to the bathroom and his trusty toothbrush.

"Where'd you go?" she asked quietly, blinking softly at him in the dim light his arc reactor cast out. He smiled, draining the last of the ambrosia and setting the glass on the small side-table.

"Reed brought up the contact lenses," he explained in a soft murmur, shucking off his shirt and then reaching down under the bed for something. He uncapped it and the scent that assaulted Pepper's nose brought giddy memories to her mind. It was a beautiful mixture of oiled oak, freshly cut grass, heather and golden syrup.

"What is that?" she muttered sleepily, closing her eyes and breathing in the delightful scent.

"It's just something to keep my wings in shape. They got a bit eager today and I think I bent a few feathers," he murmured as he felt Pepper gently touch the tips of his limbs. The sensation was fascinating to him, sending a riveting lance of warmth, safety and love rushing down his body like a mini waterfall.

Tony gently slipped the bent feathers back the right way before applying the oil in liberal amounts and then gently wiping it off with his discarded shirt once it had had time to soak in. Pepper patiently stayed awake for him before settling into his arms as he relaxed fully underneath the cover and positioned his wings so he wasn't crushing them.

"You've accepted them then," she said, tilting her head back to gaze up at him. He still looked concerned but nodded slowly, tilting his own chin forwards to press an upside down kiss to her lips. She smiled, a small laugh vibrating through her oddly positioned neck.

"I suppose I'll have to," he murmured back, resting his head in the pillow and sighing gently, blinking large, dark eyes "I'm sorry if I caused you any pain,"

"Tony, don't. The only pain you caused was to yourself ... you've got to stop thinking that people are against you," she said gently, giving the hands around her waist a squeeze.

"I know ... but try waking up one day with wings and knowing that mutants aren't socially accepted,"

"They accepted Reed, Sue, Johnny and Ben," Pepper noted. She felt Tony smile against the top of her head and then the sideways movement as he shook his head awkwardly.

"They don't have wings,"

"But they have a man who can set himself on fire,"

"Have you ever wondered how much he looks like Cap?"

"Tony," Pepper chastised gently. Another sigh and she felt his whole body relax behind her, a soft kiss pressed to her cheek. She turned so she faced the arc reactor, enveloped in his scent, both natural and new from the oil.

"Well I'm looking forwards to tomorrow so that must be a good sign," he whispered. She smiled, too sleepy to reply right there and then. It was a mere matter of minutes before Pepper slipped under the blanket of sleep and very soon, Tony followed suit.

* * *

The next day dawned early for most people on the helicarrier and sunrise found Tony sat in a chair at the bridge, frustratedly tapping on the table with one hand whilst the other was tangled in damp, messy hair. He kept blinking, tears streaming down his cheeks. However, he wasn't upset in the very least unless you counted the fact that he had gone seven days without any ice cream.

But eventually, someone else noticed and pointed it out, much to his contempt.

"Why are you crying?" Clint asked as he sloped in with a bowl of Cap'n Crunch salvaged from his secret stores in the air vents.

"I'm not" Tony said even as he blinked and tears ran down his face again. His hands twisted sideways as he typed on a specialised keyboard.

"Well your eyes are stre-"

"There you go," Tony declared, rubbing at the liquid with the back of his thumb. He placed a hand on the table and then tugged upwards, a small screen raising with his fingers. Clint found himself staring at ... well, _himself_.

His spoon clattered to his bowl with a splash of milk and cereal and he blinked himself, moving around in a circular motion directly in Tony's line of vision. His own peripheral sight offered him a spectacular view of his own odd antics. Letting out a low, breathy whistle Clint picked up his spoon and dug back into his Cap'n Crunch.

"Are they-?"

"They're special contacts, yes" Tony clarified as he sniffed "But my eyes have never reacted well to irritation and - _ah shit_ – they keep watering," he rubbed furiously at his eyes before pulling a face at the stinging he left behind. Never rub ones eyes when wearing contacts. Clint let out a soft snort of laughter from the back of his throat and then winked.

"Well I'm looking pretty handsome today," he declared, flashing a coy grin at Tony as he flourished his spoon, his slightly blurry mirror-er on the mini screen doing the very same.

The billionaire couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

By twelve that afternoon, Tony had managed to connect his contacts, headpiece and miniature comm line to the helicarrier no matter what distance he went to and was preparing to fly. He had already sent one poor agent to the medical bay to get patched up when his right wing spontaneously jerked, smacking her in the face and sending her toppling back into her computer.

After calling apologies, he had turned to Bruce who brandished a glass of ambrosia at him. Pepper and Maria sat playing Go Fish with each other at the table, Maria in Tony's own respected seat whilst the other Avengers sat around. Natasha was still absent from their ranks having disappeared for more reasons than one earlier on in the week.

"Now you've got to stay around New York – don't go beyond Harlem,"

"The place you nearly broke?"

"Careful," Steve warned, raising one blonde eyebrow in amusement "You saw what happened to _him_" he was cautious of using Loki's name in the vicinity of numerous people now: especially Clint who still felt ashamed of what he did despite the fact that it wasn't his fault.

"You saw what happened to Ana," Tony shot back, referring to the agent who now had a pretty bruise decorating her face. Once upon a time that quip would have been heavily laced with sarcasm and venom but now it was light, excited and positively jittery with nerves. Bruce grinned and told Tony to take it easy, but that he could go now.

They followed him on his route to the main deck of the helicarrier, all the while whilst keeping track of his brainwaves, bodily respiratory and heart rates and wings. The moment he got out on top deck his heart rate spiked with an influx of epinephrine through his system and the muscles highlighted on his holographic wings glowed red.

The state-of-the-art technology was performing perfectly thanks to Reed, Bruce and Tony's collaborative efforts and as the billionaire neared the edge of the helicarrier in preparation of flight, they could see that the energy through his brain was becoming increasingly more powerful.

"Tony, you've got to calm down your mind – there's a rapid increase of the Phoenix," Bruce said through the intercom set into the main bridge system for ease of communication. They watched as Tony's vision blinked rapidly and then shut off completely, blanking out to darkness with a smidgen of illumination that naturally seeped through ones eyelids.

"_It's a bit hard, Brucie boy. You try being me,"_

"Just breathe deeply, Tony. It's like the Other Guy and I, although mine's a bit more of a painful transformation," Bruce said warningly but helpfully. The lungs on the hologram visibly enlarged as Tony inhaled a quick sweep of sharp, sweet air. The bright, golden glow on his brain decreased into a small corner.

Tony then looked off the lip of the helicarrier directly between the two engines with the rotary blades: his eyes flickered to them both and something on his brain spiked with a quick flash of blue to signify he was remembering something.

Steve smiled.

And then Tony jumped.

* * *

**Oh why hello there! Fancy seeing you guys!**

**I'm so sorry for the lack of update, been really busy at school:/ I'm still soldiering on with this though and next chapter should be a good one, hopefully because we get to see Natasha's reaction!:D Thank you all for sticking with me!**

**Tell me what you though? Or not? Don't mind:)**

**All mistakes, grammatical or spelling _or_ apostrophe induced ones are ALL MY OWN!**

**Thank you again!**

**Kermit x**


	9. Chapter 9

Nine

* * *

He knew _how_ to fly; it was just getting past the surge of powerful and overwhelming sense of freedom and adrenaline that caused a problem. The knowledge that he was finally _accepted_, finally _allowed_ to do this sent shock-waves of something not unlike happiness threading through his body, sewing up the gaps and slotting more pieces of his scattered jigsaw into place.

Every sense burst into life: his pupils dilated and contracted, sense of scent heightening to such extreme's that he could _smell_ the air around him, the odours it carried from far flung countries of the world. Every swirling conglomeration of air brushed underneath his outstretched arms before rippling past the tucked in tips of his wings.

"_Tony? Are you alright?" _

Tony opened his eyes, realising that they could only see his eyelids. He was rewarded with a never ending spiral of white and blue and silver – a rainbow stretched to his left and he tried to pass his fingers through as he fell but it just fragmented beneath his fingertips.

"_Tony, buddy you're not flying," _Clint's voice piped up. Tony laughed, the sound reverberating in the air molecules around him and resonating in his ears.

"It's all part of the fun," he managed to chuckle out, stretching his arms forwards so he was almost nose-diving through the clouds. He curled his wings so that he twisted through the air.

"_There's low-lying cloud today, Tony. If you're not careful you'll crash into the ground_," Bruce warned. Tony grinned knowingly. He could sense his altitude and he knew was at least five hundred yards above the earth – the energy every element let off was like a bright and flashing signal to him – he could feel how close and how far away he was to objects with every heartbeat and every millisecond that ticked past.

The earth was a pulsing, shimmering and slightly fractured purple; solid bodies of water florescent and bubbling green; fire and warmth a resonating and glowing red; the air and wind a glittering and intermingling blue with various shades painted carelessly against each other.

Letting out a string of laughter that, to those back in the helicarrier as they waited and chewed on nails worriedly, was like the chime of wedding bells, the crash of the ocean against the shore and the roar of a lion all at once: powerful, wonderful and _free_.

And then his wings spanned out, catching the swirling updraft. It was so effortless that he wondered how he had ever relied on a whole _suit_ beforehand: flying like this he could sense and touch anything he wanted without looking imposing and frightening. With his smile never leaving his face, Tony tilted the tip of his left wing up which sent him gliding to his left hand side – he headed southwards.

"_You're doing good, Tony. Stats are good, respiratory rate is good – how's the strain in your wings?"_

"It's fucking _fantastic_, Bruce," Tony managed to get out as he entered a swirling cyclone of rising, deep blue air particles that lifted him another two hundred yards into the air.

"_Nice to hear," _Bruce replied and the amusement was evident in his voice. Tony flexed the muscles on his back and shoulders and held back a squeak of surprise as the immense _strength_ – the increase in speed was insurmountable and rendered him breathless.

"_Jesus, Tony. You've gone up to fifty miles an hour,"_

"I think I can go faster," Tony laughed, back winging and tilting diagonally across the sky to his right. A falcon joined him in his flight and eyed him up beadily before letting loose an unrestrained cry across the air.

Tony's competitive streak burst into life like the cry of a newborn baby; primal, needy and omnipotent.

"_Did that bird just challenge you_?" Steve's voice asked. He sounded incredulous and there was a soft chuckling through his headpiece as Tony flickered his gaze over the bird. Tony growled.

"Too right the little fucker did," he murmured back, following the falcon down through the cumulus clouds at speeds thatwould have taken his breath away beforehand. His pupils dilated and the falcon was clearer, larger and more distinct as he followed like a predator.

"_Fuck Tony, did your eyes just-"_

"_His eyes can zoom in and out now because of the Phoenix," _Maria's voice floated through but Tony didn't really hear it, he was too busy focusing upon his battle of wills against the fucking falcon who'd just challenged him. Two powerful flexions of his muscles was enough to send him up to a dizzying one hundred and twenty miles an hour.

_And he could go faster_.

A ripping flash of emotion sent the muscles in Tony's back twitching spasmodically and he forgot about the falcon, trying to regain his altitude as he stopped cupping the air.

"_Tony, are you feeling alright?"_ Bruce's worried voice asked. Tony jerked his head sharply to the left as a multitude of frequencies came rippling through the airwaves.

_Death. Pain. Anger_.

Heart rate elevating, Tony clamped the muscles in his wings together so he was vertical in the air before going directly up to escape the sounds. More piled in, attracted to his person and he spun around in the air, trying to find an escape route. His breathing came in short, harsh gasps.

_Death. Anger. Destruction. Blood. Fright. Terror. Obliteration. Fury. Agony._

"_Tony, get down to ground or something now!" _Bruce's voice demanded.

"_Tony, sweetie you need to get to a safe, solid perch – you need to calm him down," _his mother's voice said. She sounded frantic.

"I can't – there's so much, what's –_no,"_

It was almost like a stereotypical nightmare scenario – a solid and rising wall of darkness swept in from all directions like a tidal wave, glimmering with sinister light.

"_Thor I need you to come with me – he's falling,"_

The darkness was increasing, thriving and feeding off his terror as he swivelled around. Warmth threaded through his heart and soul and wings and the tips of his fingers tingled as he saw images within the darkness. Familiar images of those he had once loved and cherished.

"_He's falling? What?" _

"_An angel always has to fall at one point in their life,"_

The darkness was smothering, absorbing his thoughts and senses and swallowing those that still remained. It was pitch black, as dark as a beasts maw, as dark as the never ending stretch of space he had entered a while ago.

"_Tony, calm down you're going to be alright!"_

Breathing was hard and when he clenched his hand, slippery _things_ twitched through his grip. The warmth was spreading, ebbing through his veins and arteries and igniting a passionate fire within his chest. Heat pounded behind the arc reactor and into the tips of his toes. His head dropped back and his hands came up to rest upon his temples, tangling in his hair – his panic was overwhelming and yet he felt no need to move, to run, to fly.

And then his wings were licked with flames, the heat intensified in his body until he was trembling and shaking his head at the sensation. A broken, keening cry escaped his lips.

Everything faded to a soft darkness.

* * *

There was a ring of bright, flickering flames in the center of a stretch of grassy green-land. They danced with each other in a tantalising and evocative waltz of passion, excitement and depth. On-lookers watched warily as the demigod Thor Odinson and a winged attendee arrived from the heavens.

"He is within the flames?" Thor asked in rumbling tones. Maria nodded solemnly. "How are we to get through without being burnt? I sense that there is a force-field covering the top of Tony,"

Maria brought out a small phial from within her flowing, glowing dress and poured a minute amount of what looked like ice crystals into her palm. She raised them to delicately bowed lips and scattered them across the fire before her with a single stream of air.

Before Thor's eyes the flames halted in their dance, settling to an intermingled colour of red and blue. Maria stepped forwards and gently raised herself over the top of the frozen fire. A low, heavy throb of sound permeated the air and above, several television helicopters could be seen rushing like winged beetles across the sky.

Maria stepped forwards, delicately tip-toeing around the charred and burnt grass surrounding her unconscious son. He lay with his wings outstretched to their full breadth and a bubble of motherly pride ignited in her chest as she realised what had occurred.

His wings were no longer dark, the colour of the midnight on a lunar-night. She could not quite pin-point _why_ this transformation had taken place at the time when he should have been enjoying himself, but she supposed it may have had something to do with the primal instinct to best others.

The Phoenix had always been a very competitive animal.

His wings were now a dark red – almost a rich brown - accentuated with glimmering hues of gold and yellow and orange that streaked the feathers like they were brushed on with a artists tool. Light trails of what looked like Dust shimmered along the tips of his wings and as she bent down to brush her hands along the second remiges, foreign warmth was injected into her hand like she had just placed it in a bowl of hot water.

She smiled and moved his hair back from his face, noticing that he had morphed into his – _her_- natural image. His hair was streaked with faded versions of red and gold, barely noticeable but there nonetheless when he was shafted with light from the Sun.

"Lady Maria. Is he quite well?" Thor's gentle voice said. Maria exhaled shakily and gently levered her son's heavy, limp head onto her lap, running cool hands along his warm forehead.

They were polar opposites – she was cool and he was hot. She was the air and he was the fire.

"He's fine," Maria murmured gently, watching the tips of his wings twitch restlessly against the charred black floor again. She spread her own wings out on natural reaction, shrouding him from the burning Sun despite the fact that it energy thusly flowed through _his_ veins.

Phoenix's were results of the Sun's solar energy breaking off and converging with Space Dust – such beasts were rightfully the Sun in their own special, bird-like way.

People were watching them now, having come up to the ring of frozen fire and started to gawp and whisper as they realised who they were. She knew most wouldn't know who _she_ was as she had died before many of them had even begun to live life. But they would all know who her son was.

_Her son_. She smiled at the thought and tightened her hold on him.

"Thor, may I have the phial," she asked. Thor, ever the gentleman to her, produced the bottle she asked him to carry on his person at most points through the day. Inside was the ambrosia and it was this that she tipped into Tony's mouth.

It was almost like revival fluid as the moment he swallowed his wings jerked in consternation and his face moved into one of confusion. Moments later, his eyes opened and Maria saw herself reflected in them.

"What happened?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, wincing as he shifted.

"You fell," Maria said back, stroking Tony's hair. Unfortunately for him the transformation would take its toll upon him and he would need to rest until his next proper flight. This varied - he probably would recover quite soon with the Phoenix's help.

"I fell?"

"Well, you transformed," she whispered as the helicarrier materialised above them. Thor glanced up and then back at them both with a smile upon his gentle, rough and caring features. Tony swallowed heavily before shifting and getting up from the ground. Maria followed his movements and she watched, like the people gathered as a sheet of golden dust lingered in the air around Tony before being carried off in the breeze.

He curled his wings around him and gently ran his new, deep red feathers through his fingertips, watching them refract the Sun's light.

_His light_.

He looked up at Maria who smiled and held out her delicate, slender hand. "You need to rest, Tony. Assist me back up to your headquarters and then you can go home,"

_Home_. Tony thought to himself.

His smile, to Maria and everyone around them was blinding and yet calming. She could sense the awe and the shock upon the air and so it seemed, could Tony. He looked around at everyone with a degree of wariness. His conclusion was short and simple and quite blunt.

"That's my cover blown." Maria laughed and the sound was light, easy and gentle to Tony's heart.

"Come, Tony. Your friends are most likely worried about you. Your transformation ruined the connection we had with you,"

_Well that explains why my eyes aren't stinging. _Tony thought as he shuddered and the muscles in his shoulders spasmed of their own accord. Thor started to swing Mjölnir and as he lifted forwards, Tony flexed the muscles in his back and shoulders in perfect synchrony.

Leaves scattered across the park-land, people shielded their eyes and the gust of warm, wood-smoke scented wind created by the cupping of his feathery limbs bent the trees backwards. Together he and his mother rose through the air, travelling as much as they could on the wind currents before alighting on the deck of the flying S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. Tony collapsed to his knees out of exhaustion.

"Jesus, Tony," Clint called as they came out of the airlock, the doors hissing shut with compressed air behind them "What the fuck happened out there?"

"Mmno," Tony muttered as he exhaled and lay down, pressing his cheek onto the warm, sun bathed deck and humming in satisfaction. Pepper's scent was getting stronger upon the wind and very soon her small, gentle hands were assessing him.

"Hey, you alright?" she whispered gently. A smile curved his lips.

"I am now that you're here," he murmured back, taking a chance and shifting his head into her lap as opposed to the tarmac of the helicarrier runway.

"Nice to see you haven't lost your cheesiness," Pepper murmured back, pressing cool hands to his temples. Tony smiled and couldn't really recollect more after that – they ran a couple of tests outside, lifted him up and into what he guessed was a quinjet judging by the resonance of voices vibrating from the metal sides and then alighted down upon the helipad of Stark Tower.

He thinks Steve carried him again but he couldn't quite be sure: the next thing he knew for a certain was that he was sinking in the soft mattress of his bed: _his home_ and sleep was tugging at his senses.

He slipped under before anyone could try to object.

* * *

***waves nervously* **

**Hai guys. Um, nice to see you? I'm sorry updates are really long - I'm hung up at school prepping for GCSE's and I know that's a shit excuse but the subjects I took are _really _slog-ful. That's not a word but I made it up. I mean, in English my predicted grade is A* and my minimum allowed grade is A*.**

**What is this fuckery. **

**But any-whoo. Hope this isn't confusing - I think I kind of made some up and if it doesn't tie in with the rest of the story, gimme a ping (maybe that was a suggested hint but this green frog 'aint saying nothing;) and I'll try to change either this, or the other chapters! Thank you SO MUCH for your continued support!**

**I'm also going to SHOP IN GLOUCESTER AND I LOVE THAT PLACE BECAUSE I CAN GO TO HMV AND PURCHASE LOTS OF POSTERS. *hem***

**See y'all later!**

**Kermit xo**


	10. Chapter 10

Ten

* * *

Tony was sat at the dining table with a tablet in front of him late the next morning when the clock swung to the ten o'clock mark. Despite it being relatively early in the day for most people, ten was a predominately late time for him to get up now. He supposed it had something to do with the 'transformation' but he couldn't be quite sure.

He had queried JARVIS as to whether he knew the reason for the sudden change in wing colour or the reason as to why his hair was more vibrant than a rainbow fish than normal, but for once the know-it-all-AI couldn't come up with a valid conclusion.

When the last chime had sung into the recesses of the area and the darkest pits of his mind, light and gentle footsteps approached him. The redhead that walked through and into the room wasn't the one he had anticipated however and almost instantly he picked his wings from the floor where they lay relaxed, drawing them backwards in a clear display of hostility.

"Natasha," Tony said in an even tone. She carried a cup of tea with her and Tony could smell the scent of jasmine and lemongrass. The Phoenix displayed her displeasure, battling against Tony's mind. He winced as she dug into a particularly painful part of his brain, knocking over another segment of his conscience.

He ignored it.

"Tony," Natasha replied in an equally calculated voice. She sat down two seats left of the chair opposite Tony and just stirred her tea with a spoon. The whole tower was silent bar the floors starting from the tenth from the top that were a hustling, bustling hive of activity.

The atmosphere in the room was odd, alternating between calm and awkward consecutively. It took a while but eventually, Tony sensed the subtle change in Natasha's body language and external frequency vibes.

She was plucking up _courage_.

Tony smiled at the notion of a super-assassin trying to find the gall to speak to him and obviously the small twitch of his lips made her relax more. Finally, after three more minutes of silence, she said:

"I know sorry can't cut it for you Tony."

"Maybe not." Tony agreed although his tone was neither vindictive nor accusing. Natasha looked up at him through large eyes, her face and pupils full of questions. She brushed past them.

"I do apologise, though. I know it's a bit of a pathetic attempt to gain your respect again after what's happened to you but ... it's hard really. I made a promise and I went back on it which I _never_ do."

"But you did." Tony pointed out softly. Natasha raised one eyebrow almost as if she was warning him not to even _try_ and tease her. He kept his expression neutral but there was a grin fighting his lips.

"I know I did, and I won't do it again. Ignoring you was wrong of me but I suppose I was pretty..." she trailed off, fighting a battle with her mind to produce a word that didn't sound pathetic or too blasé.

He provided it for her.

"Scared?"

"Yeah," she admitted, blowing out a breath from puffed cheeks "Which is odd 'cos I'm never usually scared. Worried, maybe, but scared is an odd feeling. I might have been scared of _being_ scared," she admitted, running a hand through her short curls "But nevertheless it can't be an excuse for my actions. I'm awfully sorry for _everything_ I've done and for not being there for you."

"You were, in some ways," Tony pointed out quietly. Natasha frowned gently, her expression pressing him to continue. He did so. "When I had the panic attack on the helicarrier I was trying to think rationally like you taught me how to ... let us say it didn't work because of old Fee-Fee here-" he tapped his head "-but you were the one who taught me how to cope,"

"It's still not _me_ in person though," Natasha sighed, kicking her feet up and leaning back in her chair. Her cup of tea was cradled by pale fingers "I mean usually I'm the one who apologises first and gets the grudge over and done with before the fella's. But this time I'm last,"

"You _are_ a girl and girl's hold grudges longer," Tony pointed out, the teasing evident in his tone. He was becoming much too forgiving recently but the smile that twitched onto Natasha's lips was worth it.

No point wallowing over a matter that happened in the past.

Especially not _that_ one.

"I'm not saying I forgive you wholly, Tasha, but I've got to make compromises really because I don't want to wake up with a knife in my chest,"

"That's fair enough," Natasha said quietly, sipping at her tea. Tony smiled at her before going back to his tablet.

Twenty minutes later when he wandered out into the kitchen he found a large mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream, marshmallows and chocolate chips waiting for him. A note lay beside it and he smiled as he read it, glancing at the smiley and mirroring it with his lips.

_Cheers_.

* * *

Maria Stark announced that she had to go home approximately three days following Tony and the teams return to Stark Tower. Tony himself felt a heavy pang of sadness well up in the base of his gut at the news and she smiled, running a hand down his cheek.

"It has been wonderful to see you once again, Tony" she told him gently as they stood on the Iron Man launch pad.

"You're not coming back?" he asked. Maria tilted her head side to side and scrutinised him.

"I most certainly will in the foreseeable future – Thor will keep you updated upon myself and vice versa. He is in charge of replenishing your supply of ambrosia,"

"You can only get it in Vaendral?"

"Indeed. You will need to drink at least two pints a day to keep yourself going," she warned and Tony felt like she was chastising him for not eating his greens. He smiled, feeling much too emotional and sappy for Anthony Stark.

"Yes mum," Tony said with a small smile. He then wrapped his arms around his mother, trapping her in a warm embrace. She smiled and returned it, secretly bubbling with happiness at the small phrase she had only gotten to hear for a short while when he was a small boy.

Thor padded gently down the runway, stopping a little way off to allow the mother and son of extraordinary sorts their time together. It was strangely intimate in a way that included everybody and Thor felt that he didn't need to turn round and go back in.

Tony opened his eyes and Thor gazed into them: they were wild with sadness and passion and love and he remembered how Loki's used to be as such before the tables turned and he tipped straight off and into an abyss of darkness and evil.

Tony relished in his mother's embrace before untangled himself from his her arms and pressed a kiss to both of her cheeks, a customary greeting and farewell in Vaendral that Maria had warned him to learn before coming to visit.

"Farewell, mother."

"Farewell, Tony." Maria murmured back, taking Thor's arm and tipping her wings back and down so they were clamped firmly together to reduce drag. Thor looked upwards, raised his hammer and called upon Heimdall. A flash of blinding, multicoloured light later and they were gone.

Tony stood stationary for a moment before stretching his wings out, feeling the gentle currents of air that buffeted his thick, glossy feathers. Despite only getting to know his mother again for a short period it felt like a large void in his heart had been filled. Sure, they were odd beings and everything but there was still the intimacy of a mother/son bond he'd never gotten to experience.

And now that particular knot was tied, a golden thread in his heart and mind that brought together all three points of his life, a conflagration of ethnicities and races. Phoenix, human and Vaendralic.

He stood there for a long, long time just relishing in the rippling air waves over his skin and feather before, after taking a glance around at the team assembled behind him, he leant forwards and toppled over the edge.

Almost instantly the powerful updraft carried him directly sun-wards and he relaxed onto the currents of air as he was taken higher and higher above the city. Everything was so small and so insignificant from up here, like a tiny play-set viewed from two storeys high.

Dipping down, Tony returned to a top-of-skyscrapers level before turning sharply towards the East River. His speed was almost languid and from the corners of his eyes in his peripheral vision he could see people in the office blocks gawping at him. His feathers brushed against smooth glass and rough concrete offering new sensations to his equally new body.

Below, he could see innocent civilians looking up at him, pointing and some taking pictures of his flight and a smile stretched over his lips. He wasn't exactly being inconspicuous now about anything. It was almost like the Iron Man incident over again but with much bigger outcomes. As he drifted down to the East River where the air raced along the top of the glittering surface at breathtaking speeds, he wondered how he was meant to battle now.

In the Iron Man suit he was at a heavy advantage: he had the power of speed and electronics at every beck and call. With wings he still had flight and speed but he no longer had protective clothing: he didn't have a primary weapon either.

Also, Phoenix was a bit too destructive to call on each time and it also drained him of all of his energy. She had been battling him for a long, long time now and he was beginning to feel her effects day-in, day-out.

Tony's mind drifted back to the first day he got back from Afghanistan and as he tilted his wings so they brushed the sides of the cruiser, he smiled. Tipping and cupping his wings either side of him, Tony directed himself vertically, toes of his Converse and tips of his limbs kicking up a delicate spray of rainbow water vapour. It splattered his face with minuscule water droplets that ran down his smooth cheeks in rivers of molten silver, casting his face into an ethereal mask.

He alighted upon Manhattan Bridge and ruffled his feathers in agitation. The air was becoming increasingly humid and the water had clung to the underside of the remiges causing a downright uncomfortable sensation. Far away on the horizon he could see flashes of lightning, natural as opposed to Thor's wild fury that so often attack Stark Tower.

Tony sat down on the support tower and watched it approach with a sense of intrepidness crawling into his heart. He couldn't withstand the Phoenix for much longer now. Her power was overwhelming every part of his being, a force he couldn't hope to tame unless she worked with him. The only problem was that she didn't _want _to. Every waking hour was fought with soulful determination, every sense on high alert as she tried to worm her way through his mind to take over his body. Every sleeping dream was spent in the veil between awareness and unconsciousness for fear that Fee Fee would harm Pepper as she slept peacefully beside him.

He didn't feel the tears slip down his face until the rolled onto the metal and burnt their way through to the tarmac below.

* * *

**Oh. Scumbag writer is back. Also, what's with the comma's, me? I don't know. I'll edit them. 'Ventually. **

**I laughed way too hard when I got 69 reviews. *immature dance* - and also, thank you:3 **

**Mistakes are MY OWN YEAH. **

**Kermit x**


End file.
